


Keepers of the flame

by Ambzidoodle



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Historical AU, I found this in my phone notes, Magic, idk where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 07:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15702345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambzidoodle/pseuds/Ambzidoodle
Summary: There hadn’t been true Flame Keepers in centuries; the mortals still practised the rituals of course, belief is a powerful thing.But keepers were a danger, a commodity, their magics and chants could convert armies to the Gods they pledged too. Odin had extinguished their light long ago, angering the Valkyrie and leaving the dead to suffer and the planes of their existance desolate.When a call is heard by two of the Gods with a spark that has not been felt since Freyjas’ wars, who on Midgard has the power to call them now and why?





	Keepers of the flame

**Thus, though we cannot make our sun  
Stand still, yet we will make him run.**

He watches, from the shadows, as they dance around the fire they have made deep in the forests, it is twilight and he thinks that they do not yet understand the power they have conjured. Not yet.  
They do not know that magic flits though their veins will call all manner of creatures seeking favour.  
He wonders, briefly, if the protective circle the elders have woven will be enough. Enough to keep him and his companion from taking if they want to, stealing if they want to. After all who are these mortals to deny Gods.  
The raven haired girl is dressed in emerald, silver bangles weave their way up her arms, the flaxen haired girl is in gold, her arms loop above her head, the same silver bangles clank against each other as she dances to the beat the circle has created. He wants them to turn, wants to see their faces. Their little ritual was loud enough, strong enough to call them here.  
He sends a compulsion, a light touch, a suggestion more than anything - _‘you want to turn around.’_ He’s confident these mortals won’t actually feel his suggestion, they never do. He smirks devilishly at his companion and then the girls stiffen, only minutely but they do. His smirk widens, what secrets are you hiding he thinks, little town in the middle of nowhere, how have these two been born to you.

They turn and look to where he and his companion are standing. They’ve both had their eyes darkened with kohl, lips stained with blackberry juice, ochre markings on their chest denounce them as Flame Keepers, the daughters of the chiefs of the town. The firelight crackles and in the half light they look otherworldly. 

The raven haired girl locks eyes with him, she raises a single eyebrow and licks her lips, a half smirk plays on her features. His companion grabs his shoulder, it doesn’t take a learned man to realise that the blonde haired girl has probably pulled a similar ruse with him. They turn back to the fire and continue to dance. 

An invitation. A challenge. 

They make their way towards the circle, the girls are still dancing, barefoot on the forest floor, they join hands and begin to spin, shrieking joyously. 

The ritual is nearing it’s climax and the Gods have always liked to make an entrance. 

The girls cut their palms with a wicked looking silver dagger and throw the blood that wells up, along with the dagger into the flames, the fire roars upwards spitting out emerald and gold sparks, making sunspots dance about their vision, when they clear and the fire has returned to normal size the Gods are in their circle. 

The chorus of voices hush, the people stare. The Gods walk amongst them. One tall and dark haired, covered in ritual tattoos that mark him cunning, strong, leader. The other is taller, red haired with weapons that hang from his belt, on his left arm is a tattoo that marks him forthright, a man of action, of leap now, consequence later. 

“Who calls us?” the dark haired one says, they girls look at each other before joining hands.

“We did, my lords.” They speak as one, voices weaving and melodious. “We would beg favour of the Gods.” 

The elders are watching with thinly veiled horror, faces ashen, they did not think that they would have enough power to summon Gods. 

They know what will happen now. They will lose their daughters due to their own pride and demanding nature. The Gods are never kind.

“What favour do you seek?” The red haired one asks, looking at the blonde. The girls look at each other again before the blonde starts to speak. 

“Our elders bade us call you here my lords.” She begins, not a quake in her voice, she stands tall and strong as the raven haired girl takes over. 

“They wish to curry favour, to stop the attack on our lands from those who would do us harm.” The raven haired girl explains, like her friend she does not bow or quake.

The Gods turn to the elders, these mortals are so easy to read, the dark haired one thinks, hardly any fun at all; every emotion rioting behind the eyes and anger begins to burn in his chest, these mortals thought it would be easy to trick a trickster? 

“Lie.” The dark haired God hisses, his face harsh. An expression a fear flits over the girls faces before they tamp it down. “My lord?” The girls look to the elders, who look shamefaced and back to the Gods. 

“They wish to curry favour, yes” says the dark haired one, his eyes cold and dark, “but not for the reasons they gave you.” The two girls do not do so well at hiding their emotions this time, the betrayal is written over their faces.  
“What are your names?” The red haired God asks kindly. 

“Veronica, of House Lodge” says the dark haired girl, “Elizabeth, of House Cooper.” Replies the blonde, they have yet to let go of each other’s hands. 

“I am Archibald, descendant of Thor, the God of the just and True”

“I am Forsythe, descendant of Loki, the God of cunning and guile.” Both men bow and the if the girls are shocked they do not show it, they drop into deep curtseys and as the rise the dark haired one starts to speak, voice low and steady.  
“If it pleases, my Lords.” Veronica begins, eyes like ice though the dark kohl she wears “would you be so kind as to reveal the reasons were where bade to summon you here.”  
Both girls glare at the elders, magic begins to spark from their joined hands. 

“The elders of this village wish to conquer more territory, they wish to be feared, they do not wish to lose their power.” Forsythe inclines his head to the two girls, “instead of marrying you to the sons of the neighbouring tribes, they choose to summon the Gods, so that they could keep your power and subjugate rule over others, turning you both into weapons to be used at their command.” 

The girls faces are ashen, hands still clenched tightly together. “Father.” Veronica whispers, voice rising with each word. “Tell me you would not plan for such things without our consent? We may be women but do we not deserve to know what, what purpose you want us for.” She spits the words out venomous and angry.

Her cheeks flushed and her stance tall, Forsythe is overwhelmed with the familiar urge to take, to own and he chuckles to himself, this woman, he thinks does not allow herself to be owned.

“Mother.” Elizabeth calls, she looks cold and dangerous. “You thought you could use us, to hold rule and not consult us, that we would jump when you called, weave magic without questioning?” They laugh together, the girls, it is bitter and angry but they do not cow, they do not break.

“If you do not obey” Veronica’s father shouts, eyes burning with anger at his own daughter “I will cast you out and you shall live in exile.” Elizabeth’s father stands up to join him “I have already sent one daughter away for her wickedness, do not think I will hesitate to do so again.” He smirks, they may be Gods, he thinks but we are parents and we have raised our children to obey without question.

Veronica and Elizabeth are whispering to each other, faces turned away from the elders, they nod and turn to the Gods.

Forsythe is surprised when they kneel in front of them, Veronica in front of him and Elizabeth in front of Archibald. Veronica speaks first. 

“Forsythe, descendant of Loki, God of cunning and guile. I entreat you, let me enter your service, I humbly ask you protect me from my elders. I will pledge my magic to your cause.”

“Archibald, descendant of Thor, God of the just and true. I entreat you, let me enter your service, I humbly ask you protect me from my elders. I will pledge my magic to your cause.”

Forsythe extends a hand to Veronica. “Rise my Lady.” Veronica takes his hand and gracefully rises to her feet “are you sure you want this?” He asks as he cups her cheek with one hand. Veronica nods, “the cost of service is your first kiss, willingly given.” He intones and the elders gasp. “You may wait for your friend if you wish it.” 

“Thank you my Lord.” Veronica says and turns to look at Elizabeth. 

Archibald, has offered Elizabeth his hand with a smile and a quiet “My Lady?” Elizabeth  
Has risen to her feet and is staring at him as he gently holds her face in both hands. “My cost of service is the same little summoner,” he smirks “your first kiss, willingly given.” 

The elders begin to shout, and the men roll their eyes. These midgardians so concerned with virtue and roles of women. They are cut off my the voices of the two girls rising above the crowd.

“I will give it freely.” They shout. The elders fall silent, the two girls step towards their Gods and lean up to them.  
“You have to kiss us.” Forsythe explains “the binding won’t work if we kiss you, no matter how much we may want to.”  
Veronica nods and pushes her lips onto his, there is a crackle like lighting, her hands push into his hair and he cups her face as if she is something precious. Veronica feels as though she is drowning in him, and she does not care, she has never felt like this, the stolen kisses from the boys in her village do not feel like magic against her lips and taste like mint and rain. 

Elizabeth watches as her best friend melts into the man, the God she had called and turns to face her own. “It is the same for us my lady” he whispers quietly, “If I kiss you, the binding will not hold, your elders could call you back and hold you.” Elizabeth nods, she reaches up on her tiptoes and puts a hand on his shoulder to balance herself, she brushes her lips against his and she too feels the lighting, the Gods’ Archibald’s hands hold her back and she wraps her hands around his neck. 

The girls step back, eyes wide, hands brushing over their lips. The Gods smile. “The binding is completed, none shall take you from us without a reckoning.” Their voices ring through the forest. 

“What have you done Girls?” Elizabeths’ mother cries, “you would leave your home unprotected? You would succumb to your base instincts and leave us vulnerable?” 

“You left us vulnerable.” Elizabeth states, her voice cold. “What if we had called Gods less impressed with our magic, less kind to our plight? We would be dead due to your greed and pride.” 

“We do not weave because you demand it.” Veronica turns to the elders, if she feels Forsythe’s hands on her waist she does not react. “We weave because we believed we where under attack, that we where vulnerable. You lied.” She screams “you used us! For your own gain with no regard for the consequences summoning Gods may have brought us.” 

Magic is sparking from her skin, her hair begins to crackle and float. Forsythe can feel the fire within her and he wonders how they have kept these girls away from the Gods watchful eyes for so long.  
“My Lady” he says as he pulls her around to face him once more, “though you are most stunning in your rage, you must calm yourself else you risk hurting yourself.” He clasps their hands between them and Veronica breathes, slow and deep, her hair falls back to her shoulders but her eyes are still lit with anger and pain.

“How have you hidden them from the Gods?” Forsythe demands staring at the elders, one hand reaching for the dagger concealed at his hip, “what have you wrought in the name of protection to keep them?”


End file.
